


The Misadventures of Hunter Jack O'Neill 2.0

by StargateNerd



Category: Stargate SG-1, Supernatural
Genre: Bodyswap, Gen, Jack is a flirt, M/M, THE GABRIEL THING JUST KIND OF HAPPENED OK??, and when DADT doesn't apply he flirts with Daniel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StargateNerd/pseuds/StargateNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of (mostly) unconnected oneshots detailing Jack O'Neill's clone's more supernaturally inclined run-ins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'd Like to Phone a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my headcanon that Jack's clone gets into all sorts of stuff, with most of his adventures being, naturally, of the crossover kind. Also my headcanon is that his name is Jon Neil. Not really original, but better than the other options. Also most of these stories will take place either post-series for SG-1, or season 10 at the least, cause he was what, fifteen-seventeen in Fragile Balance, so after high school for him would be mid/late season 8, beginning season 9 at the very _least_.

"This is Daniel Jackson."

"Hey Danny!"

"...Jon?"

"Yeah, it's me. Just calling to ask a favor."

"I'm not going to bail you out of jail or anything."

"And I don't expect you to. No, I found something that looks kinda like those pictographs from, uh, what was it, P5X-927. If I send you a picture of it, d'you think you could translate it for me?"

"This is the third time in the past couple months you've found something that only _I_ could translate; just what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing too dangerous if that's what you're worried about. A little adventuring here and there."

"That was a gunshot!"

"No, really? Hey, get that salt over here!"

"Jon, what's going on? Do you need help?"

"That's sweet of you, but could you just check your e-mail?"

"My e-mai-? Jon you just sent this a minute ago!"

"Yeah, and I needed it - ungh! - five minutes ago!"

"Jon, seriously, where are you?"

"Translation, Danny!"

"Geez, get deaged 30 plus years and you still shout at me..."

"Tell you what, after this is all over I'll take you out for dinner."

"That _I_ would end up paying for."

"Course no- God fucking dammit Winchester, your _other_ left! Daniel!"

"Sumerian in origin... Jon do I want to know what you're messed up in that has you finding a tablet with instructions for an ancient flesh-eating curse?"

"A curse huh? That makes sense..."

"Jack!"

"Thanks Danny; I could kiss you!"

"I don't get myself involved with jailbait."

"Damn, you're no fun. Looks like older me's gotten to you."

"No, you're too young. And if I had to choose between the geriatric and the adolescent when I myself am middle-aged-"

"I'm feeling the love."

"And nothing else."

"I promise the next time I call it won't be because of a life or death situation."

"It better not be, or I'll tell Sam."

"You wouldn't!"

"Just try me."


	2. Wake up in the Morning Feeling like Dean Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Body-swapping isn't completely new to Jon, though it's still very annoying. At least this time he doesn't have to worry about having to learn kel'no'reem.

Waking up with an aching headache was nothing new for Jon. Over six years of going through the Stargate notwithstanding, he had been a member of the Air Force for over thirty years, and over eight of those had been spent in Black Ops. So he was, if not used to, at least accustomed to waking up in varying amounts of pain.

Of course, waking up to find you were in a much different body than you went to sleep with was something that had only happened a few times. Well, Machello's device didn't actually put them to _sleep_ per say, but-

He was getting off topic.

After going from fighting aliens to fighting supernatural creatures and monsters, Jon occasionally worked with other "hunters", they were called. Recently, he'd met up with a pair of brothers whose bond had reminded him of how he and Daniel used to act, before the whole zatarc fiasco and Reese - oh lordy, _Reese_ , and then Daniel had fucking _died_ -

Anyway, the point was that the last thing he remembered was accompanying the Winchesters into some sewers, and now he was waking up in a much larger body than he was used to. He groaned as he forced himself to sit up. 

"Dean?"

Jon looked over to see the taller brother - Sam, he remembered - coming over, looking worried. "Try again," he said, rubbing at his - well, Dean's, he supposed - temples. "Body-swapping. Always a favorite."

"So, wait," Sam frowned. "You're Jon?"

"Ya think?" Jon retorted. He groaned. "Ugh, I feel like I just went a couple rounds with a System Lord. Got any ibuprofen around?"

"Yeah, somewhere around here." Sam went to rifle through his bag, but didn't turn his back on Jon. He couldn't blame him; after all, they didn't know each other very well, and now for his brother to not be his brother - well, it was an awkward situation to say the least.

"Sammy?"

Jon had to admit it was really weird to hear his voice when it wasn't him speaking.

"Dean?" Sam rushed over, relief coloring his tone. "Are you okay?" he asked, helping his brother sit up.

"M'head," Dean muttered, unconsciously leaning against Sam. "What's wrong with my voice?" he wondered, rubbing at his head. He stopped, his eyes widening as he spotted Jon.

"Hey," Jon waved his hand a little. "Body swap. Weird, huh?"

Dean shook his head, muttering under his breath about witches and how much he hated them.

"Here." Sam uncapped the bottle of ibuprofen and poured a couple into Dean's much smaller hand. He then handed him a water bottle. "Drink up," he ordered. Dean did so with a minimum of grumbling.

"Can I get some of that?" Jon wondered dryly. Sam absentmindedly tossed him the bottle, still worrying over his brother in Jon's body.

"It's like the beginning of that Ke$ha song," Jon muttered to himself. "Except with more attractive men and much less alcohol."


	3. Send in the Clones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With everything that Daniel knows, it just figures that there'd be an exorcism in there somewhere. Of course, he never thought it would actually have any _practical_ applications...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, poor Jon. Never a quiet moment for him x3 
> 
> And introducing clone!Daniel this chapter! Who is named Dan Ackerman.

It was the man who came smashing through the window that made Jon duck for cover. When he saw that Dan didn't follow suit, he dragged him with him behind an overturned table.

Seriously, couldn't they go out to eat like normal people who weren't de-aged clones without running into this sort of shit?

"This sort of shit" being people crashing through windows and people being thrown up against walls when there was no one there and seriously when did their lives turn from being a sci-fi drama to The Exorcist?

Aaaand now there was a crazy lady cackling, and were her eyes, iris and sclera and everything, full on  _black??_  

"Exorici-" the guy pinned to the wall by no discernible force managed to choke out before he went flying again, this time sliding across a table before slumping to the floor. 

"Is that all you've got?" the woman scoffed with a predatory grin.

Jon started as a gun was pushed into his hands. "Where'd you get this?" he whispered to Dan, who was crouching next to him.

"Went flying when the guy hit the wall," Dan replied quietly. "I need you to cover me."

"Oh, sure, cover you while the crazy lady with the telekinesis makes swiss cheese of me," Jon snarked. "What are you gonna do anyway?" 

"Just cover me," Dan insisted. 

"The things I do for you," Jon muttered. He checked the gun - full clip, a bit heavy and kinda flashy, but it'd do the trick - and whistled shrilly through his teeth as he stood. "Hey, Carrie!" he yelled, gaining the woman's attention. 

"Exoricizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," he heard Dan saying, and his Latin hadn't been too shabby before the whole Groundhog Day and learning Ancient with Teal'c, so if he was saying what Jon thought he was saying, he'd better hurry his delectable ass up!

Jon raised the gun and fired twice, both shots catching the woman in the chest. And yup, she didn't seem the least bit affected, despite the bleeding bullet holes. Okay, time for Plan B. 

He rushed out from behind the table, diving behind a booth and wincing as the demon lady's telekinesis just missed him and instead caused a not insignificant dent in the wall. He popped up and held his ground, getting off another shot before he was thrown back, crashing into a bunch of chairs. "Fer crying out loud," Jon muttered as he scrambled for the gun, which had slipped from his hand. He gave a choked off cry as a foot came down on his hand.

"You're quite a good shot," the demon mused, smirking. She ground her foot down and Jon gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. "Resilient too. You'd make a nice toy to play with."

Jon bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "Sorry, but you're not my type. Plus, I'm taken."

The demon pouted. "Such a shame. You're so pretty too."

"...ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos!"

The woman let out a blood-curdling, otherworldly shriek as a cloud of black smoke exited from her mouth, nose and ears, swirling around the room before vanishing out the door. The woman collapsed to the ground, dead from her injuries.

"You okay?" Dan helped Jon up, grimacing at the state of his hand. 

"Could be worse," Jon quipped. He shook his head, a fond smile playing across his lips. "Over twenty eight languages in that big ol' head of yours; of _course_ you'd know an exorcism."

Dan blushed. "Well, all that mythology, be weird if I didn't. Never needed it before, though." 

Jon chuckled, bringing up his uninjured hand to ruffle the other's hair. "Ya did good, Danny-boy." He smiled at the deepening blush on Dan's face. "Let's go see if that guy's still alive. Need to give him his gun back, too."


	4. Identity Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that gods that aren't actually Goa'uld masquerading as them actually exist. It just figures that Jon would run into the most annoying of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I COULDN'T HELP IT I NEEDED TO WRITE SOME OF MY ADORABLE LITTLE SHIT GABE the flirting just happened what has happened to my life wow now i have the urge to write jon/gabe porn someone pls help

"Wait wait wait," Jon said, bewildered. " _You're_  Loki?"

"Guilty as charged," the Trickster grinned smugly before popping a Tootsie Pop in his mouth.

"Dude, I've met Loki," Jon said. "He's much shorter and...  _greyer_  than you. Also more of a dick. Probably," he amended because this supposed Loki had been killing assholes in a poetic irony that Jon personally approved of. The irony, that is, not the actual killing part. Well, except for the last guy; that pedo got everything he deserved and more.

"Oh, you're talking about the Roswells?" Loki hmm-ed before shaking his head. "Yeah, we ran those little bastards off-planet millennia ago, though it didn't stop the Goa'uld from trying years later. Oh the look on Kali and Shiva's faces when the  _real_ Kali showed up and vaporized them!" he cackled.

"So that's why we never ran into many Hindu," Jon mused. "Plenty of Egyptians though."

"Yeah they were a little smarter with them," Loki nodded. "Took advantage of a decline in belief and then boom! Sucker punched 'em. Ra never fully recovered." He snapped his fingers and a chair appeared behind him. "You've been off-planet recently then, eh?" the Norse god asked as he sat down.

"You could say that," Jon replied, unsure whether to stay standing or not because  _hello_ , there were a couple of unconscious guys tied up on the other side of the room.

"Now I don't keep up to date with every scientific advancement you mortals make, but last I heard the human race, here on Earth anyway, was not capable of faster than light travel, nor any sort of manned space flight past the moon," Loki drawled as he swung his feet up on the footrest that appeared out of thin air. He raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

"Sorry, that's confidential." Jon smirked slightly at Loki's pout. "If I told you I'd have to kill ya."

"Come on," Loki chuckled, "I think we both know what the outcome of that attempt would be." His amber eyes twinkled deviously. "Unless, of course, you're talking about a little death?"

It took a second for Jon to catch on. "Ew, no!" he exclaimed, nose wrinkled in distaste and cheeks flushing faintly. "You are so totally not my type."

"Well, I am a deity capable of bending reality to my whims," Loki twirled his fingers, the Tootsie Pop morphing into a dark chocolate truffle. "I can be  _anyone's_  type."

"Mm, not buying it," Jon snarked, shifting his grip on his gun to a more comfortable position.

"Ah, don't be like that Jackie! Or is it Jon? Which do you prefer?" Loki wondered, popping the truffle in his mouth.

"It's Jon," Jon retorted shortly, glaring at the Norse god. "And you'd better scram before I shoot you."

"So quick to violence," Loki sighed. "Not as bad as the Terrible Twosome over there," he jerked a thumb towards the two men tied up across the room, "but more trigger-happy than I'd like."

Jon looked over and did a double take. "Jesus Christ are those the  _Winchesters?_ "

"More like Losechesters," Loki snarked.

"Oh my God," Jon muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Just... go away before I shoot you or call Thor to do something with lasers to you. He'll do it too, he likes me."

"Well, now I'm jealous," Loki said, suddenly right up in Jon's personal space.

_Teleportation?_  Jon wondered before his face went beet red because yeah Loki was an asshole, but he  _was_  an attractive asshole and their faces were way too close together for his general comfort. "And you'll stay ten feet away from me," he somehow got out without stuttering, "or I will be filing for a restraining order with Odin or Frigga or whoever."

"You're so cute," Loki cooed, pinching his cheeks and then skipping back a few feet. "I'll definitely be keeping an eye on you,  _Colonel_." The Norse god winked, then disappeared soundlessly and without any movements.

Jon stood there for a couple minutes, trying to get his heartbeat to go down and his face to go back to a normal color. "Fuck everything," he muttered before going to untie the Winchesters, which, seriously, running into the most prolific of hunters while he was trying to lay low? His life  _sucked_.


End file.
